Mutant Tennis
by Elly And The Gundam Wing Fan
Summary: Who's up for a game of tennis with our favorite X-Men heroes? Chapter 11 is up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  Don't own it.  Don't claim to.  Don't plan to.  Don't sue.  Also, Stacy X will not be making an appearance in this fic, due to a restraining order issued by Nightcrawler.  What a shame… we can only imagine what… er… amusements she would have brought to this little story.

**Elly and The Gundam Wing Fan present:**

**Mutant Tennis!**

            Ah, tennis: a lovable sport available to all sorts of folk thanks to its relative low-cost, availability, and simplicity to pick up.  ARGH, tennis: a frustrating sport thanks to its difficulty to master.  It sometimes seems like you'd need a _super power_ in order to win.  Don't fool yourself.  These guys would _still_ beat you.

            **Chapter 1: Keep Your Eye On The Ball**

            The felt-covered ball made a satisfyingly hollow sound as it made contact with the girl's over-sized racquet.  It flew over the net, landing _right_ on the line on the other side of the court, narrowly being missed by another, smaller racquet.

            "Point conceded, Kitten." Ororo returned to the service position behind the court.  "That's thirty serving fifteen."

            Kitty wiped her brow indifferently, and then crouched in anticipation for the next serve.  Ororo tossed a ball into the air, traced a line down her spine with the head of the racquet, then snapped it frontward to catch the ball squarely on its descent.  Her loose sleeves trailed behind the sudden movement of her arms, reminiscent of the cape she wore when taking the identity of Storm.

            Kitty misjudged the hit, accidentally stepping into the ball's way.  Too late to make any helpful adjustments, she phased.  The ball bounced harmlessly through her middle.  Better than sporting a bruise the next day, she supposed.  "You're hitting too hard!" She called impatiently.  "I'm still learning!"

            Ororo retrieved another ball.  "What better way to learn than to be presented with a challenge?  I think you'll find you're quite capable of returning these… with a little concentration."

            "I just think our time would be better spent in the danger room.  This game isn't improving my reflexes as much as you said it would." Kitty replied, swinging her large purple racquet through thin air to test her aim.

            "Perhaps if you gave it more of your attention?" Ororo prepared to serve again.  "Forty, fifteen."  She let loose with a more angled strike, easing up on the power a bit.

            Kitty lined herself up properly this time, taking a weak swing at the ball.  The moment she hit it, she knew it would be an easy return for Storm.  She mentally cursed herself for not being more competitive.

            Surprisingly, Storm did not return the ball.  She watched it pass by, staring blankly and then nodding absently.  Her eyes had a faraway glaze Kitty recognized, mostly because she was visited by the same spells herself.

            "Professor X?" Kitty asked.

            Ororo hesitated for half a minute, and then it seemed her telepathic communication with the X-Men's leader was over.  "Yes.  He was seeing if we were up for a training session in the danger room."

            "Oh, yes!" Kitty exclaimed, dropping her racquet down.  "Guess we can't finish the game, then." She shrugged in fake disappointment, unable to hide the relief on her face.  Apparently, Shadowcat wasn't much of a tennis enthusiast.

            "On the contrary." Storm said with dignity.  "I explained to the Professor how valuable it is for an X-Man to enjoy activities that don't include such pressure as the danger room.  He agreed with me."

            Kitty slumped, but didn't pick up the abandoned racquet.  "Ororo!  Why'd you go and do that?"

            Storm bounced a tennis ball against the court, catching and re-bouncing it with graceful wrist motions.  "Don't be so disappointed, Kitten.  Tennis can be very enjoyable with the right mindset."

            "I guess I don't have the right mindset, then."

            "Would that be the case if Peter joined us for some practice?"

            It was as if a light was lit beside Shadowcat's face.  Her annoyed features softened, and her uninterested eyes grew wider.  "Huh?  I don't think Peter is much of a tennis person."

            "Neither are you, but you are here.  The Professor and I decided playing sports would be an excellent focus of energies for the entire team.  They will be here shortly."

            Kitty plucked her racquet off the court.  "Well, what are we waiting for?  Teach me some stuff quick!  I can't be such a klutz in front of… uh… in front of the team!"

            Storm gave a thin smile.  "Forty, thirty."

            The serve was a much easier version than the previous ones, but though Kitty Pryde gave it her earnest best, she missed the ball by a solid foot.  She realized the sudden surge of excitement must have fouled her judgment.

            "Game, set, and match." Storm made a laugh that sounded like wind chuckling through treetops.  "I believe the most important thing I could teach you before the 'team' gets here is to keep from being so distracted." She gave the younger girl a motherly wink.  "Do you think you can remember to keep your eye on the ball when Peter gets here?"

            Kitty's face flushed.  "Of _course_, Ororo!  You make me sound like some silly high school girl!"

            "Kitty."

            "What!?" She hadn't meant to bark the word like that.

            "You _are_ a high school aged girl."

            Shadowcat put a fist to her waste, still clutching the racquet handle in it.  "Well I _know_ that.  My point was I'm not that silly!"

            "Just consider my advice.  You said yourself you don't want to make a fool of yourself."


	2. Chapter 2

            **Chapter 2: Easy Does It**

            "Um… maybe we'd better switch racquets." Kitty suggested.  "That one looks like a _spoon_ in your hands."

            Peter conceded the smaller, old-fashioned racquet he had brought.  "Whatever you think is best, Katia.  I know nothing about tennis."

            She replaced the wooden racquet with her purple one, all but batting her eyes at her teammate known as Colossus.  He glanced at the color of the racquet suspiciously, but didn't complain.

            "That's a little better." Kitty decided.  "And these newer titanium racquets are easier to handle, right Ororo?"

            Before Storm could answer, Hank launched into an exhaustive report of titanium's properties and how all this somehow applied to tennis.  "Ah!  Titanium graphite!  A solid, yet lightweight compound metal consisting of…"

            Shadowcat started tuning out the lecture right away.  Beast had arrived with Colossus and hadn't really stopped talking about the science of tennis since.  "Well anyway, _I_ think it's easier to hit the ball with a wider tennis head."

            Peter nodded ponderously, obviously unsure about this whole tennis business.

            "Oh, don't look so _worried_, Peter!" Kitty found herself raising her voice to be heard over the brainy speech Beast was making to nobody in particular.  "Ororo's gonna give you lessons just like she gave me!  I had _tons_ of fun, and I know you will too!"

            "Tons of fun." Storm repeated blandly.  "Indeed Kitten, I seem to recall you having quite an amusing time thinking of all the things you'd _rather_ be doing."

            Kitty clenched her teeth, reddening noticeably.

            "What should I do first?" Colossus interjected, hoping to end Kitty's embarrassment.

            "Well, I think he should practice his forehand first!" Kitty recovered from her blush quickly, rubbing her chin as if in strained thought.  "That's the most straightforward way to get a feel for the racquet, don't you think?"

            "So you were paying some attention to me after all." Storm motioned for Beast to join her side of the court for the lessons.  "But I believe it is myself and Beast that are instructing here.  As you pointed out earlier, you are still learning."

            Shadowcat looked prepared to launch into an argument, but seemed to think better of it.  "Fine!  Then we can both learn together, Peter!"

            Storm and Beast exchanged weary glances, then began to instruct in the proper way to swing a racquet forehand.  Kitty returned a few successful volleys to demonstrate.

            "That doesn't look too hard." Peter said, somewhat hopefully.

            "Focus on meeting the ball with a perfectly straight racquet face to begin with." Beast reminded him before lobbing a slow ball to Colossus' side of the court.

            Kitty smiled 'prydefully' (Hee hee) at first, impressed that Peter had already caught on.  He was so clever!

            Colossus swung the racquet like an axe, meeting the ball just as Beast had instructed… straight on!  If the ball exploded on impact, nobody could tell, because it sailed off into the horizon unceremoniously before anybody could get a proper look at it.

            "Er… good try!" Ororo fanned her eyes in a vain attempt to see the ball touch down.  "But in tennis, you must get the ball to land within these lines or it is out… really out…"

            "That is _so_ out." Beast concluded, clearly awed by Colossus' display of strength.  "I am _not_ retrieving that one."

            Peter hung his head.  "Maybe this is not my game."

            "No!" Shadowcat interjected.  "That was actually pretty cool!  Just ease up a little."

            "Another," Ororo announced, tapping another ball over the net.

            This time, Kitty cringed, waiting for the inevitable.  Peter was so clever… but kinda scary sometimes!

            Peter's clenched fists, and narrowed eyes would have looked at home on the face of someone preparing to smash the next ball into outer space, even though his effort was directed at hitting lightly.  The effort paid off regardless.  The ball did _not_ hurl into the horizon like a kite with a mission.  It hurled into the fence surrounding the court, embedding itself between a few slats.

            "Better!" Kitty said quickly, sweeping hair that had blown across her eyes with the force of the swing.  "You're improving!"

            Storm approached the fence, calling encouragement to her new student.  She tried to pry the ball out of the slats but it wouldn't budge.

            "Allow me," Beast insisted, trying his huge hand at removing the wedged ball.  His efforts shook the whole fence, but the ball stayed put.

            Storm joined Beast in staring at the lodged ball in disbelief.  It was stuck so perfectly in the middle, the slats created a gulf all around the circumference of the ball.  It was a wonder it hadn't popped under such pressure.

            Ororo leaned in closer to inspect this unlikely occurrence, reaching to feel the ball with two fingers.  She suddenly leapt backwards several feet in shock, nearly falling over.


	3. Chapter 3

            **Chapter 3: The Competition Heats Up**

            BAMF!

            "What's everybody staring at?"

            Ororo clutched the collar of her shirt impulsively; catching the breath she lost in her sudden retreat from the fence.  "Well… I guess we'd all be staring at _you_ now."

            Shadowcat had suffered a similar startle as Storm, even from across the entire court.  "Really!  As if seeing a fuzzy, blue guy with a forked tail weren't freaky enough, you have to _pop_ in everybody's face like that!"

            Peter chuckled good-naturedly.  "I'm sure Kurt didn't mean to scare us… again... like always… actually, he probably _does_ do that on purpose."

            Kitty realized her good luck at the situation and pulled a fainting spell despite the slightly bad timing.  Right on cue, Colossus intercepted her wobbling form.  "Oh the _shock_!" She placed a hand to her forehead dramatically, letting her weight fall into his arms.

            "You'd think she'd never seen a good-looking mutant before." Nightcrawler crossed his arms at the shameless display.

            "Let's just be grateful that Peter is a perfect gentleman in addition to those good looks." Ororo sighed.

            "Actually," Nightcrawler waved his three-fingered hand through the air in that strangely expressive way he had.  "I was talking about _me_.  But I guess Colossus isn't too bad himself."

            Beast threw a disapproving look at Kurt.  "So did you just drop by to tell us all how highly you think of yourself?"

            "Not at all, mein freund!"  (Ha ha!  I got a Nightcrawler speech pattern thingy in there!  Yay!  Uh… what does it mean?)  He revealed a tennis racquet that was gripped by his flexible tail.  He transferred the racquet to his hands and started twirling it from side to side in a show reminiscent of juggling.  "I came to play some tennis also!"  The racquet passed back to his tail and then he really did start juggling some tennis balls that had been previously unseen.

            "Well for your information," Kitty yelled from the other side of the court, still reclined in a fainting position and being supported by Peter.  "_That_ is _not_ how you play.  You're just showing off!  As always." The last words were spoken quietly, but everybody caught them just the same.

            "Ah, tough crowd." Kurt caught the balls in one hand and returned them to his pocket.  His hurt expression was quickly replaced with a fanged grin.  "It appears I'm not the only one to be showing off?" He gestured to the ball squished between the fence slats.

            "That was an accident." Storm explained.  "We're teaching Peter how to play."

            "It's jammed pretty good." Beast added.

            Nightcrawler waved his hand in another highly eloquent gesture to dismiss their worries.  He placed his thumb on one side of the ball and two fingers on the other…

            BAMF!

            Kitty jerked out of Peter's grip with a shriek, finding herself falling over for real with the sudden loss of support.

            "I believe this is yours?" Nightcrawler had time to hand the ball to a confused Colossus, bow theatrically and then…

            BAMF!

            …catch Shadowcat in mid fall.  "Thank the good Lord for showing off, eh falling damsel in distress?"

            Colossus finally caught up with the last three or four seconds, seeming embarrassed to be holding the tennis ball rather than intercepting Kitty's second fall.  He grabbed her hand to help stand her on her feet.

            Kitty glared angrily at the blue intruder.  "Thanks." She said icily.

            "So… you play this game too, comrade?" Peter addressed Kurt sheepishly.

            "Play it?" Nightcrawler frowned at Shadowcat's obvious distaste with him.  "I only _invented_ the triple-twist backhand slice supreme!"

            "Well, it's a shame we have to miss it, but we already have four players on this court." Kitty chirped, making shooing motions.

            "Katia!" Colossus looked at her reproachfully.

            "What I mean is," Kitty stumbled.  "There's only room for four.  That's the rules.  No offense.  Go on now." This time, she settled for shaking Kurt's hand, though she paled at the touch.

            "Excuse her rudeness." Ororo was standing close enough to the net she didn't have to yell to be heard.  "You're welcome to join this lesson."

            "No need." Nightcrawler shook his head, feeling even worse at the sight of Kitty scrubbing her hand in a casually frantic sort of way.  "I've got a match scheduled that should be arriving any moment.  And knowing this guy, it's practically impossible for him to be late."


	4. Chapter 4

            **Chapter 4:  Play By The Rules**

            "All right, I'm here, come on, let's go, let's play!" Northstar blurred into the group and started tapping his foot irritably.  "Come on already, I'm getting bored."

            Kitty started again.  "This is your opponent?  Great…"

            "Enough chatting, I'm here to play tennis."  Northstar twitched his bright yellow racquet viciously at Nightcrawler, exhaling quickly, conveying a sense of impatience.

            Kurt glared sarcastically.  "I had time to blink before you got here.  That must mean you're late."

            "Not as late as you'll be if you don't start playing.  Okay, time's up.  I'm starting without you."

            Jean-Paul charged over to the nearest court, produced a ball from seemingly nowhere and started playing… both sides of the court.  The play became so quick the rest of the X-Men didn't bother to turn their heads back and forth to follow.

            BOOOM!

            BOOOM!

            BOOOM!

            BOOOM!

            The sounds didn't keep up with the actions on the court.  Northstar's familiar blurry form shot back and forth a few more times before stopping abruptly.  "Haha!" He declared.  "I won!"  Just as suddenly as the rapid game had ceased, it started up again.

            BOOOM!

            BOOOM!

            "Did he just say he _won_?" Beast looked disgusted.  "How can you win against yourself?"

            Nightcrawler shrugged.  "How can you lose?  If you ask me, it's brilliant."

            BAMF!

            Nightcrawler teleported to Northstar's court and started his own game, BAMFing from one side of the court to the other to return the volleys.  The two solo-players somehow timed their hits so they occupied opposite sides of the court at all times.

            Ororo looked dismayed.  "There should be competition in sports.  This is sad."

            BAMF!

            BOOOM!

            BAMF!

            BOOOM!

            BAMF!

            There was an unusual screeching sound, like someone slamming on the brakes of a car, and then all was silent except for the sound of two tennis balls bouncing away, and two racquets clanking onto the court.

            "That must of hurt." Kitty held her head as though she had been part of the collision.

            Northstar and Nightcrawler were both flat on their backs after an unfortunate crash.  Kurt groaned quietly as Jean-Paul leapt to his feet, glaring ruthlessly.

            "Why don't you watch where you're going?" He sputtered in his fast speech.  "You ruined my whole game and now because of you I _lost_!  Go away, get lost, leave me alone, shoo!"

            Nightcrawler sat up, massaging the back of his neck with a strange expression.  "I've been getting a lot of that 'shoo' business lately.  You should watch where _you're_ going sometimes… if I had teleported _on_ to you…"

            "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.  You're always moaning about how you could accidentally teleport into something and die an agonizing death.  Blah, blah, blah.  That's not how you play tennis, anyway.  It should be about skill, not super powers."

            Kurt was back on his feet, groping for the fallen racquet with his tail.  "What?  You were using your powers."

            Northstar made a super fast gesture, so it was unclear what it was meant to convey.  "I was not.  I couldn't move as slowly as you if I tried!  I was moving at a perfectly natural speed for me!"

            "That's your mutant power, though…"

            "It's different.  You shouldn't be allowed to teleport while playing.  Now if you excuse me, I'd like to get back to my game."

            "Wait!  What about our match?" Kurt held up his racquet.

            "You cheat."

            "Now just hang on a sec-"

            "Nope.  Seconds take too long." Northstar had already zoomed along to the other side of the court, serving suddenly.

            "Uh… comrade Kurt, look out!" Colossus warned from the adjacent court.

            Nightcrawler looked stunned at the cheating accusation and never saw the serve coming.  It hit him squarely on the forehead, knocking him to the ground again.

            "Get out of the way!" Jean-Paul complained, shaking a fist.  "You keep making me _LOSE_!"

            "What seems to be the trouble?" A calm voice interrupted the hectic scene.  Everybody turned to see Professor X approaching in his wheelchair.

            "Nothing Professor," Kurt said flatly from the ground.  "I just think I chipped a fang, that's all."

            Professor X nodded approvingly.  "Of course!  Isn't tennis wonderful?"

            Northstar was pacing, muttering loudly.  "Yeah, sure… if _certain_ people didn't _CHEAT_!  Plus take naps on the court." He stopped walking back and forth and put his hands around his mouth.  "Get out of the way!"

            The other court had abandoned its lessons to stare at the drama next door.  Expressions ranged from Ororo's distasteful grimace, to Kitty's insensitive chuckle.

            "There seems to be a rules discrepancy in their case." Hank informed the professor with an official tone.  "I've never heard of any rules pertaining to mutant abilities, so…"

            "Professor," Jean-Paul was suddenly beside the wheelchair, joining the conversation as though it was his turn to speak.  "Using powers on the court should be illegal, don't you think?  Well!?"

            Professor Xavier opened his mouth importantly, preparing a lecture regarding mutant tolerance and fair play, but before any sounds got out-

            BAMF!

            "No!  That's not fair!  Northstar was using his super-speed powers!  How is teleporting any different?" Nightcrawler argued the point as though he expected to lose.

            Xavier nodded thoughtfully, taking both of his students' viewpoints into consideration.  He looked skyward, pondering.

            "Hey!  Did you fall asleep or something?" Jean-Paul demanded after about three seconds.  "Kick this guy out for cheating, already!"

            The professor raised an eyebrow at the impatient outburst, and again opened his mouth to say something most valuable, but-

            "Well!?" Northstar asked, wide-eyed.

            "If you would stop interrupting," Kurt snarled.  "Maybe he would clear this all up."

            Xavier smiled appreciatively, beginning to thank Nightcrawler when-

            "He's taking forever!"

            Kurt made a threatening, throat cutting gesture.  Shadowcat could be heard gulping all the way from the other court, even though the hostility wasn't directed at her.

            "As I was _saying_!" Professor X finally began.  "I think our rule books will have to be changed in order to clarify this situation."

            Northstar looked seriously dismayed.  "That's bound to take forever!"

            Xavier looked to both players before he felt confident to continue without interruption.  "As Jean-Paul clearly points out, his powers are automatic, and it's unfair to suggest he 'turn them off.' "

            Every mutant besides Nightcrawler nodded in agreement with the fact.  After all, what were the X-men about if not tolerance, fairness, and freedom to behave as an individual?

            "I guess… that's right." Kurt conformed, regretfully.

            "On the other hand," Xavier looked at the demonic mutant inspiringly.  "How can it be called fair if we allow one's powers, but nobody else's, automatic or not?"

            Storm glided to join the discussion.  "Some of us would be at an extreme disadvantage.  Not all powers are created equally."

            "They are in this case." The Professor indicated the squabbling players.  "If you're here for a challenge, Jean-Paul, I believe you'll have to be more open minded."

            "Why?" Northstar asked.

            "Because," Xavier explained in a nurturing way.  "Unless you truly enjoy playing alone, Kurt is the only one who can keep up with you.  And he has to teleport to do that."

            "But that's _cheating_!"

            "No it isn't.  It's a fair match."

            Relief spread across Nightcrawler's face.  "It's true.  I never cheat."

            Professor X smiled hopefully at the fuming Jean-Paul.  "I cannot _make_ you accept this match, Northstar.  I suggest you do, though.  As Ororo pointed out, this is an excellent training opportunity."

            Northstar's face reddened for what must have seemed an eternity of inaction for him.  He finally held out his hand, acceptingly.  "May the fastest mutant win, then."

            "Sounds like fun." Kurt agreed, shaking the hand firmly.


	5. Chapter 5

            **Chaper 5: Mind Over Matter… and Matches**

            "Ah, Jean." Xavier smiled warmly, inviting his longtime student to take a seat and observe the games.

            "Afternoon, Professor." Jean took the seat.  "Scott said he'd show up shortly." She leaned towards her mentor conspiratorially.  "Just between you and me, I think he's brushing up on some of his tennis skills in private, before he has to come out here and face Logan."

            "Who is quite the quick study, I must observe." Professor X gestured to the court with the lessons.  The Wolverine had joined the learner's side of the court, with absolutely no interference from Kitty Pryde, though she had argued Nightcrawler's company earlier.

            Wolverine was just getting the hang of some overhead shots, taking delight in swinging the racquet violently.  There had been confusion over whether he was intentionally hitting Beast with most of his returns, or if he was just being himself.  It was Storm's opinion that there was no difference.

            Jean beamed admiringly.  "He _is_ good." Her glance shifted downward, shyly.  "But I still think Scott can take him."

            "I'm not surprised." Xavier chuckled.  "Do you plan on getting any court time for yourself, or merely cheerleading for your favorites today?"

            "Well, with these new rules in place, I'm not sure who would make a compatible opponent for me." Her eyes drifted to the impossibly fast action on court two.  "For instance, I don't think I could compete with either of them… even with telekinesis."

            The argument forgotten, Northstar and Nightcrawler were playing a highly competitive game, each favoring the title of 'fastest mutant' for himself.  It was a difficult call in any case.  Jean-Paul seemed incapable of missing, probably because from his perspective the ball was moving so slowly.  His returns were dependable and powerful, and he wasn't losing any energy at all yet.

            Kurt's edge was obviously in his tricky shots.  It was impossible to tell what kind of angle was coming next, thanks to the inky purple smoke that interfered with others' vision when he teleported.  Besides that, years of practice in the circus made him agile enough to keep up with most of Northstar's returns.  But it was still a close match.

            "Yes." Xavier said softly, as the score was called deuce.  "I don't think even _my_ mind could keep up with their speed."

            "League of their own." Jean concluded, returning her attention to the lessons.

            "That was a good one!" Wolverine was reporting happily.  He had just knocked the wind out of Hank with his last return.  "You okay, bub?"

            Hank held up an oversized hand, waving that he would be all right… or maybe he was gesturing for help.  Either way, Wolverine was enjoying the new sport.

            Jean bit her lip.  "Suddenly, I feel sorry for Scott."

            The declaration seemed to catch Logan's attention.  He turned to meet Jean's gaze, waving cheerfully.  "Here to cheer me on, Red?"

            "Hm." She replied noncommittally, keeping a burgeoning smile under control.

            Wolverine turned back to his practice and Professor X appraised the fellow telepath parentally.  "Who _will_ you be cheering for when the match starts?"

            "Well… perhaps I could just be a neutral audience?"

            "Unlikely."

            Kitty was so busy chatting with Peter she hadn't improved in the least over the last half-hour or so of training.  "That was a good hit, don't you think?" She gabbed blithely, indicating Wolverine's ruthless aim.

            "Uh… Katia… incoming." Colossus warned her.

            The ball bounced towards her, but she phased through it as though it were less important than a passing fly.  "Oh, thanks for the heads up.  So anyway, there was like this _hat_ in the window and I was thinking it would go great with that one shirt of mine… you know the one?"

            "Well…" Peter didn't know.

            "Yeah!  That's it!  So I went in, but the cashier person was so _rude_!"

            "Really…"

            "Yeah!  She was not even doing her job right, and I could do so much better if you ask _me_.  And so I asked 'how much?' "

            "Ball!"

            Kitty phased through another ball without a second look.  "Oh thanks.  And it was _way_ too much money for a _hat_.  So then I saw these _shoes_, and I'm betting you're already thinking how well they would go with that one dress, right?"

            "Okay… what about the game?"

            Shadowcat beamed intensely.  "You are _so_ right!  Shopping _can_ seem like a game sometimes.  What with all the sales, and clearances, and other shoppers to think about!" She suddenly looked sly.  "Hey, since you're such a savvy shopper, maybe you and I could hit the mall today?"

            Three tennis balls came hurtling towards the distracted Shadowcat at the same time.  She hardly had time to phase through them.

            "Maybe instead, you could think about hitting the _ball_ today?" Storm glowered, bouncing a fourth ball as though it were a weapon.  Beast and Wolverine were also preparing another salvo.

            "Hey!  You guys threw those at me on purpose!" Kitty wailed.  "You saw that, right Peter?"

            "Yes, but we're supposed to be paying attention."

            Kitty looked as though he had come up with an award-winning idea.  "You know, that's a thought!"

            Xavier shook his head as the people on court one began playing again, this time, with Shadowcat's interaction.  "Sometimes I wonder about that girl."

            Jean just grinned.  "She just has her own set of priorities.  She could be a great leader someday if she turned her fancies to more useful things."

            "Such as?"

            "Well," Jean shrugged.  "Something other than hats and shoes.  She's got a good sense of justice, and is very loyal to her friends." She accentuated the point by nodding toward Shadowcat giving Wolverine a high-five for another violent point against the other side.  Hank was rubbing his arm where the ball had just struck him.

            "True." The Professor looked troubled.  "But what about those who _aren't_ her friends?" He was obviously speaking about occupants of court two.

            Jean seemed regretful.  "She's still young, and easily scared.  She will… evolve."

            "What are you talking about?" Cyclops arrived, lugging a professional looking tennis racquet case with half a dozen racquets inside and some expensive tennis balls.  He was wearing a designer brand tennis outfit, with matching shoes, sunglasses, and headband.

            "Hi!" Jean brightened.  "Just about Kitty."

            Scott nodded knowingly.  "Yeah… is Ororo mad with her, or what is up with that?"

            There was a mild windstorm ravaging court one at the moment.  Storm could be vaguely heard, instructing her instructees to pay attention to her instructions lest she strike with her structured weather attacks.  (Heh heh.)  "Mind your lessons!"

            Xavier and Jean both shrugged as though such things happened every day.  Actually, they _did_ happen on a regular basis come to think of it.


	6. Chapter 6

            **Chapter 6: Special Shots**

            "You know, if you don't feel up to playing against me yet, I'd understand." Scott offered somewhat snootily, brandishing his high-end racquet like a beloved weapon.

            "Heck no, bub!  I'm liking this game, let's play!" Wolverine smiled toothily, still completely unaware of Hank's serious bruises.

            Cyclops shrugged stiffly.  "Whatever.  Just remember I've been playing a lot longer than you so don't be a bad sport."

            Wolverine seemed unimpressed, and so the game began with no more dialog.  Court three had gathered a small crowd, intrigued by how the already tumultuous relationship between the two players might affect the game.

            "Who do you think is gonna win?" Rogue eyed Wolverine and Cyclops shiftily.

            "Oh, I wouldn't really care either way." Jean concluded her statement by whistling guiltily.

            "You think it's gonna be Logan, right?" Rogue persisted.  "He's so good at everything else, I wouldn't be surprised."

            Jean turned to Xavier for support, but he merely shrugged.  This could very well be as close of a match as the one still continually tying in court two.

            "Well," Jean said defensively.  "Scott _has_ had professional lessons for a little while."

            "You'd think by the way he was dressed he was the world pro!" Rogue whistled derogatorily.  "He looks uptight.  Kind of stuffy."

            "Just because he has name brand gear?" The telekinetic scolded.  "What makes Logan's blue jeans and plaid shirt superior?"

            "I was just saying." Rogue gave a suspicious glance around all three courts.  "Er… Jean?  Who do you think is the best player of everybody here?"

            "I don't know, we'll have to see who wins, won't we?"

            "Sure, but if you had to _guess_, or place a bet on one of them, who would it be?"

            Jean considered.  "Well… Scott or Ororo has had the most real lessons."

            "But I mean, _including_ powers?"

            "I don't know, Rogue." Jean turned away from her pesky companion to watch the opening serve by Cyclops.

            Rogue turned her attention to the well-formed serve as well, suddenly ripping a notepad out of one glove and a pencil from the other.  She began scribbling notes and scores, maintaining an eye on the ongoing action.

            "Are you writing a report?" Professor X grimaced as Wolverine's feisty shot scored a return ace against Cyclops' forehead.

            "Who, me?" Rogue scrutinized Scott's reaction to the point.  "Nah.  Just interested.  Oh, bad sport."

            She was referring to Cyclops' outrage at being hit.  "Hold on, mister, you're not playing by the rules!"  He stalked around, instructing Wolverine on proper game play before continuing the match with the next serve.

            "You're welcome to play, too if you're so interested." Xavier suggested.  "Hank and Ororo are giving lessons on the first court."

            "Oh, are they really good?" Rogue asked, wide-eyed.  "Who do _you_ think is the best, Professor?"

            "I couldn't say."

            "Oh… oh sure." Rogue seemed to complete something in her writing.  She jogged to court two and watched that game for a while.

            Northstar and Nightcrawler had reached a tiebreaker… again.  It was impossible to tell who might come out on top.

            "Excuse me?" Rogue shook the fence roughly to get their attention after Jean-Paul gained a faster than light point.

            "We're busy!" Northstar turned to look at her and then away so fast Rogue thought there was no way he could have told who was there.

            "But I have a question!" She shook the fence some more.

            "Oh?" Kurt looked at her for a realistic amount of time.  "They're doing lessons over there, and _almost_ anybody is invited."

            Rogue caught the potential gossip right away.  "_Who's_ not invited?" She leaned against the fence.  "Did Bobby freeze the swimming pool to go ice skating again?  Is he grounded from sports?"

            Nightcrawler shook his head.  "Nothing like that." He was preparing to tell his tragic story about being discriminated against by fellow mutants when Northstar stopped waiting and served the ball without warning.

            It screamed like a comet, bounced into the service square, and then pounded into the side of Nightcrawler's neck loudly.  The distracted mutant hit the ground with an even louder noise.

            "Are you _okay_!?" Rogue addressed the fallen player, shaking the fence again.

            Jean-Paul tapped his foot.  "I thought you said you were _fast_!  Get up already!  You do this all the time!"

            Rogue looked around nervously.  "Uh… Nightcrawler?"

            "Okay, this is ridiculous." Northstar said.  "Hey girl, would you call this 'nap' a forfeit so I can win and get on with my life?"

            "But wait!" Rogue pointed.  "He looks like he's getting up."  She frowned.  "No wait… I'm wrong.  Must just be convulsing or something, looks like you hit a nerve…"

            "Oh well, guess if he's dying that means I win." Jean-Paul looked like he was leaving.

            "No wait!  What about my important question?"

            "What is it?  I don't have all day."

            "Well," Rogue held out her hand to keep her interview from running away.  "Who do you think is better between you two?"

            "Well, who do you think!?" Northstar said as though it were the most apparent, obvious thing in the world.  And then, he was gone.

            Rogue tried to follow his path with her eyes, checking the other courts, but he seemed to have given up on tennis.  She finally spied him sitting on the school wall, chucking tennis balls aimlessly into oncoming traffic.

            She noticed a car cart wheeling from contact with one of his speed-charged, fastballs.  It landed on its hood while various pieces of steel detached unrealistically to blow up into smaller infernos.

            "Hm.  He _does_ have some points." Rogue addressed the unconscious Nightcrawler apologetically.  "I bet _you_ couldn't do that." She shrugged and headed over to court one to check out their _mad skillz_.

            All four players were astounded by the carnage in the front drive.  Kitty feinted fainting (hah hah), but Colossus missed.  He was too absorbed in the spectacle.  "You don't get stuff like that back in the old country."

            Rogue decided to fill them in.  "Oh that.  Nightcrawler got killed so Northstar was bored."

            "Oh." Everybody except Colossus looked satisfied with her explanation and turned back to their activities.

            "Uh… shouldn't we be concerned about all this?" Peter looked astonished at his teammates.

            "Oh, he does this.  He's much easier to get along with once he gets it out of his system." Kitty said referring to Jean-Paul.  "Just let him at it."

            "Playing with cars is good for boys." Ororo added.

            Colossus blanched.  "But those are real cars."

            "All the better!  He is learning about science!" Beast covered his ears good-naturedly as a disturbing explosion rocked the grounds.  "See?  He just learned something very important about gasoline.  Flammable, you see?"

            Colossus nodded, disbelievingly.  Maybe it was time for him to find a new super group… these guys were a little off.  Uncanny.

            Storm suddenly seemed to realize she should be doing something.  "I hate seeing people get hurt.  I'll go catch the people." She flew off casually.

            "So anyway," Rogue said.  "I was wondering, how y'all are doing?"

            Beast smiled.  "We're learning a lot about tennis today."

            "Oh!" Rogue looked like a fox broken into the hen house.  "Who's the best student?"

            "What do you mean?" Colossus asked, looking slightly relieved that Storm was managing the terror on the streets.

            "Oh nothing." She twirled her hair innocently.


	7. Chapter 7

            **Chapter 7: Slice and Dice**

            Scott wanted to ask for ice, but Iceman was still absent.  "That's the fifth time, mister… in the face alone!" His oft-hit, swollen nose felt like a ripe apple, weighing him down.  This was looking very, very bad.  And what was that just then?  Jean waving at Wolverine?  Gasp.  That was the last straw.

            "Coming at you, bub!" Wolverine smiled evilly and seemed to be lining up his next strike.

            "Oh no." Jean covered her eyes.  "This is beginning to look more like dodge ball!"

            But Cyclops had other ideas for the future of this all-important match.  "Alright.  Time for drastic measures!  Switch to the visor." He clamped his eyes shut while he exchanged the sporty glasses for his fashion-less, but deadly visor.

            "Don't see how _that's_ gonna help you, one eye!" Wolverine took aim, and served the ball.

            But this time, good old Cyclops was ready.

            FZZT!

            He lightly fired his red, force laser, nudging the ball half an inch over the net and dropping it back onto Wolverine's side, making it impossible to retrieve.  He had learned to be so precise with his visor; this action was no difficult calculation for him.

            "What happened to your whining about the rules?" Wolverine insulted.

            "We decided to allow mutant powers on the court, so Cyclops' action is permitted by the rules." Professor X stepped in.  (He didn't really step in, cause he can't actually walk, but you know.)

            Wolverine reacted to this in true Wolverine fashion.  He considered dicing up the net to show how much he disapproved of this bureaucracy.  But, he did still like the game, and the net did seem to add a certain element that would be missed.  He decided he would play the game by their rules but maintain the fun of it.  "Whatever you say, bub.  Bring it on."

            Cyclops grinned.  He had finally found his edge.

            "Here you go!" Wolverine announced the next serve.

            Scott pushed the ball back into Wolverine's path with his laser, feeling proud and noticing Jean's admiring gaze.  In face he was so preoccupied with Jean, he didn't notice Wolverine had released his claws and was amusing himself with slicing up the ball and sending it skyward.

            "Hey," Jean noticed the flayed ball departing into court two.  "Scott, isn't that the special tennis ball you were boasting to me about last night?"

            "_What_!?  My official Dazzler autographed tennis ball?  _Nooo_!"  (What the heck?)

            In the air, one piece of felt fuzz detached from the slaughtered (and special) tennis ball, and drifted merrily along to enjoy its last moments of freedom before approaching the ground of court two and going straight up the nose of the K.O.ed pointy-eared, fuzz-ball.  (Also known as Kurt Wagner for all those who don't speak fuzz-ese.)

            Two unnerving yellow eyes opened suddenly.  An earth-shattering sneeze followed Kurt's revival, drowning out even the sounds of Northstar's recreation.

            "Aaaaah chooo!" He immediately covered his face with both unusual hands.  (Elly's got an unhealthy obsession with those hands…)  "Argh!  The pain!  I didn't mean to break his neck, I swear!  I've tried so hard to follow the teachings!"

            Rogue just so happened to be passing at the moment.  (Convenient, eh?)  She let herself into court two by the gate, and knelt next to the hysterical, sniffly mutant.  "What're you talking about?"

            Nightcrawler dropped his hands at the sound of her voice, cringing sharply (Get it?  With those teeth, anything he does with his mouth is sharp!  Haha hah!  Uh… yeah.  Stop that, Elly; your infatuation is scaring us.).  "I… I wasn't killed by that last hit?"

            Rogue shook her head, a bit frightened by her teammate's outburst.  "Nah, you're still breathing."

            "Thank goodness!" Kurt exclaimed literally, gazing upward with appreciative eyes.  "For a minute there, I thought _that_ was happening again…"

            "What?"

            He mumbled something vague about Dante's Inferno, but she couldn't make any sense out of it.

            "Well Sugar," She clapped him on the back a little harder than necessary.  "I think we'd better get this competition back on track.  I fear for the birds' health at this point."

            It was Nightcrawler's turn to be confused.  "What?"

            She nodded east.  "Seems like your pal there got sick of causing Salem's greatest traffic jam and decided to chase sandpipers across the basket ball courts instead."

            It was true.  Northstar could be made out, running circles around the panting bird with ease.

"You expect me to play so soon after that near-death experience?"

            "So what?" Rogue started yanking on his arm to pull him upright.  It was Kurt's turn to be nervous at a touch.  "Couldn't have been so bad for _you_, cross-bearer.  What'd you see?  Doves, gardens, angels with harps floating on clouds, or would you just keep it simple by envisioning the pearly gates?"

            Nightcrawler swayed dizzily upon reaching the awkward standing position.  It must have been the throbbing in his neck that brought back the unfortunate memory.  "Do I _look_ like an angel to you?"

            "No," She admitted.  "But you do look like you have potential to be the best tennis pro out here today.  You're not just going to let Northstar dash away as the fastest mutant, right?" Rogue put her hands on his shoulders to steady him, but even gloved, her touch seemed to do nothing but further weaken him.  "If you give up now, you will never hear the end of it!  I should know.  I mean, last week Gambit and I came out here with some racquets and ever since he…" She snorted.  "Well I _will_ beat him, even if I have to track down both the Williams sisters and borrow their talents to do it!"

            The suggestion of Rogue using her powers against someone inspired Kurt to stand without help.  "No offense." He carefully shrugged off her assistance.  "Doesn't that guy ever get tired?" He exhaled hopelessly, following Northstar's progress in herding some confused field mice into a bucket.  He had a few dozen inside already.

            "It'd be nice if he put all that energy to a useful cause now and then." Rogue suddenly called out to Jean-Paul.  "Hey you unoriginal Quicksilver knock-off!  There's some laundry piled up in my room if you can't find anything better to do than the cat's job!"

            Northstar heard her, abandoning the squeaking bucket when he realized Kurt was standing up.  In two shakes (point two, really, considering who this is) he had flown over the fence and was speaking.  "Okay, let's pick this up where we left off.  And _you_," He jabbed a finger at Rogue.  "Suggest that I'm a maid again, and I'll have your entire wardrobe in the incinerator before you can even _say_ the word laundry.  Now get off the court!"

            Rogue put her hands on her hips and turned her face aside proudly.  "Stop sweet-talking me, Northstar, or I might have to give you a good luck kiss.  Oh _that's_ right.  You wouldn't be interested, would you?"

            Jean-Paul glared at her intensely, keeping his finger pointing for her to exit.

            "How about you, 'Crawler?  Need some good luck?"

            Kurt winced at the proposition, gripping his retrieved racquet a little tighter.  "No thanks."

            "Worth a try." She shrugged as she strutted out of the court, staring through the fence again.  "Ironic, isn't it?  I'm surrounded by sports, and carnage on the streets but I'm _still_ not getting enough action.  Maybe if I'd remembered my pom-poms…"

            "Oh look," Jean abandoned her vigil over court three for a minute, seeing the resumed play on court two.  "They're playing again.  What was their score again?"

            The Professor concentrated on the question.  "They're tied with two sets a piece.  So unless they keep scoring deuce like before, it should be over in a few minutes."

            "Last second bets, y'all?" Rogue asked, sauntering back to resume her conversation with Jean.

            Jean scowled.  "I told you, I'm not taking sides."

            "They say the world's divided between gamblers, and losers who never tried their luck." Rogue smirked, scooting Jean down the bench to make room.

            "Oh, who says that?"

            "Gambit, but that's besides the point.  You oughtta take some chances now and then, Jeannie.  You could make some good money…" Her eyes drifted to the two players on court three.  "Or make some good something else."

            The redhead laughed in a choked way.  "I don't need _gloves_ to remind me to keep my distance from risks, Rogue.  No bets, and that's that."

            Rogue's eyebrows were moving suggestively, but she kept quiet and watched the game… if it could still be called a game, considering the players seemed to have their own conflicting rules and scores.

            "That's it, mister!" Scott huffed.  "If you don't finally catch on and play the game right, I'll have to declare it _over_!"

            Wolverine picked some green lint from his extended claws.  "Don't be a sore loser, bub.  Not everybody can slice the ball like I can."

            "That is not how you slice it!" Cyclops lectured.  "_This_ is a slice." He dropped a ball and hit it with a chopping motion, putting spin on it so that when it landed on Logan's side, it bounced unpredictably.

            "So's this." The sliced ball was met with a slice of Wolverine's.  It split into three pieces and sailed away to land in court two, as all of its predecessors had done.

            Scott's arms hung disbelievingly at his side.  "Okay, you know what?  Fine.  Just be like that, but you have to realize those 'slices' of yours count as a point for me."

            "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Beamy." Logan patronized.  In his mind, his version of tennis required more skill anyway, so why should he bother with those other old-fashioned rules at the moment?

            "This isn't even a competition." Cyclops continued to complain, meeting Jean's eye with a 'see how he is?' look.  "This is just expensive target practice for him…"

            "You're fault for buyin' the pricey stuff, Pro-shop!" Rogue catcalled.

            "Whatever." Scott finally settled.  "The balls are sacrificed, but at least I'll get some practice with my serve."

            "Suits me." Logan mumbled.  His aim was improving with this practice.  He had been able to get almost every stray ball to fall into Nightcrawler's path, but he had yet to smack him directly with one.  He couldn't wait to improve some more!


	8. Chapter 8

            **Chapter 8: The Strange Case Of The Molting Brain**

            "Switch courts!" Northstar commanded.  He had been directing most of the flow of the game with a loud, irritated voice.

            Kurt didn't like being ordered around, but he was so tired after the last time he got knocked out he just wanted the game to get over with.  You'd think that the two of them would have been prime talents to get a tennis match over quickly and painlessly, but it was dragging on through uncountable ties.  Best to just ignore the bad attitude and keep the game moving… and rest the aching neck in due course.

            "Hey!" Jean-Paul exclaimed.  He sounded appalled.

            "What?" Nightcrawler couldn't even finish the one syllable before Northstar was in his face, dangling some fuzz in front of his eyes.

            "You shedding?" He indicted, rubbing the fuzz between two fingers.  "This… _crud_ is all over that side of the court!"

            "What?"

            Jean-Paul threw his hands over his head in incredulity.  The fuzzy evidence fell from his hands and floated downward.  "I'm asking if you've been shedding while playing tennis!" He made it sound like a serious crime that someone might do such a thing - even unintentionally - during _tennis_!  The horror!

            "Not me." Kurt shook his head.  "Maybe your brain's finally exploded from all that running around you do and _you're_ shedding that fluff-brain out your ears."

            "An _insult_?" Northstar had his hand around the offender's throat so fast a slow-motion playback wouldn't have betrayed the moment where his fingers slammed against Kurt's neck.

            BAMF!

            Nightcrawler teleported out of the death grasp reflexively.  Now on the other side of the court, he saw that Jean-Paul hadn't been entirely unfounded.  There _was_ a bunch of fuzzy crud on the ground.  "Watch the neck please!" His eyes were squinted in such a way that the yellow light behind them seemed to glow more fiercely than typical.  "I ran into a real _accident_ earlier, and I'd hate to have to teach him a lesson."

            "Clean up the court, and quit molting already." Northstar recovered from finding his hand empty by flexing his fingers into a fist and back.

            Kurt was growling again.  He hated it when those reactions snuck up on him so suddenly; it only reinforced that demon-exterior impression.  He kept growling, anyway.  One snarl suddenly turned into an uncontrollable sneeze, ruining the whole intimidation act completely.

            "Oh, _I_ see." Jean-Paul said.  "You're ill, sneezing, and your fur's falling out.  Tough break; guess I win by default."

            "I'm not sick…" Not entirely true.  His neck ached warningly, and this sneezing was unexpected.  Not to mention the company was sickening.  But what _about_ this sneezing?  "It's something… falling from the sky?"

            They both turned their attentions upward, and saw the fuzz really _did_ seem to be snowing down from the sky.  It took a little deduction before it was only too obvious that Wolverine's ball-holocaust was the cause.  The last straw was seeing the deflated tennis ball carcasses strewn across the court.

            "This is _still_ your fault!" Jean-Paul roared.  "He's aiming for you specifically!"

            Nightcrawler wished he could revert to psychotic demon mode _now_, but the fuzzes creeping up his nose kept him sniffling too humanly to pull it off.  "Tell me, is there a target painted on my back, or has God just decided today was a great opportunity to make me answer for some things?"

            "Don't you even bring God into this!  If anybody could be accused of doing the slowest work in this world, let me break it to you, it's Him."

            "I don't know about that," Kurt retorted.  "He must have been in a rush to have turned _you_ out so imperfectly."

            "_I'm_ imperfect?" Jean-Paul scoffed.  "Grab a mirror, buddy.  But take care of this mess first before I decide to skip straight to your seven years of bad luck."

            Kurt exhaled laboriously.  "Do you really enjoy wasting your time arguing all day long?  Let's just forget about the fuzz and get on with this."

            Northstar wondered for about 1/1000 of a second if he really did enjoy arguing, but dismissed it as silly.  Anything that blue slowpoke came up with wasn't worth thinking about anyway.  He spent his next few fractions of the second getting into position to return whatever pathetic serve was coming next.  For the last few milliseconds, he prepared a few dozen insults to sling at Kurt just in case he said something that was supposed to be witty.  Ah yes… it was good to be speed personified!

            Meanwhile, Storm and Beast had taken up a real match, requesting that the two new players observe what tennis was like in action.  So far, Ororo had refrained from using her powers to influence the game, opting for straight skill in this competition.

            "Thirty to fifteen!" Hank announced.

            "What's the matter, Katia?" Peter hoped it wasn't something bad.  The disappointed look on her face was frightening.

            Shadowcat was disgusted.  "Rogue is such a _liar_!"

            Colossus blinked, expecting all the details whether he asked for them or not.  Usually, Kitty would fill him in on an entire day's experience without any encouragement.  She didn't seem to believe in sparing the unimportant details, insisting on describing the meals she'd had, the clothes she wore, and especially the exact words she'd used at the time.

            Completely out of character, Kitty did not automatically explain her situation to him.

            "Rogue is a liar because?" Colossus prompted, feeling worse at the silence than he would have at the most dull description of a dancing lesson in the world.

            "See for yourself." She grumbled.  "He's up, running around… _breathing_ of all things!"

            So that's it.  "Kurt is alive?"

            "And _well_!" She whined in dismay.

            "That's game," Scott gave the peace sign.  "Set," The hang-loose sign.  "And match!" A shadow puppet rabbit.  Nobody bothered to ask what that last sign was for.  "I _win_!"

            Wolverine's game was not quite over yet.  He shaded his eyes as he watched the plummeting, gutted ball.  "Come on, come on…" He ground his teeth in anticipation as the ball neared its mark.  "And… _yes_!  I _win_!  Bet he never saw that one coming!"

            Rogue surveyed the chaos that Logan's game had inflicted on court two.  The filleted ball had finally succeeded in landing across Kurt's face, preventing him from seeing the ball that was in play over there, and consequentially losing the match to Northstar.

            "Not only did he lose the game for himself," Jean muttered, pointing at Wolverine. "He managed to make Nightcrawler lose, too.  All with one slice."

            "Mad skillz." Rogue agreed.

            "I think we may need to revise our new rules again.  There seem to be a few wrinkles yet." Xavier started wheeling his chair away, entertained to his satisfaction.

            Jean entered the court to congratulate both the winners… for that's how they both viewed themselves.  Better than some of the fights they'd had for stupider things.  "Nice work, guys.  You put on a good show."

            Cyclops greeted her excitedly, throwing an arm around her waist.  "Yeah, I was pretty great today!  Only cost a few hundred dollars in tennis balls, too!"

            "That's… wonderful, Scott…"

            "And did you catch that smooth ending, Red?" Logan also seemed pretty excited.  He recreated his final slice with hand movements, depicting a falling object cruising right onto a running person.  "Don't get _that_ replay on ESPN!"

            She forced a smile, nodding in what she hoped was an appreciative gesture.  "Very nifty."

            They didn't notice Rogue skulking towards her prey in the distance…


	9. Chapter 9

            **Chapter 9: Rogue Takes Her Pick**

            "So now," Jean-Paul was talking a bit slowly for once, probably reveling in his victory and wanting to enjoy every millisecond.  "You admit I'm the fastest, and I'll be off."

            Kurt assumed that this extremely bad day was a hint from above to be more humble.  That didn't stop him from fuming on the inside, but there had been enough arguing today.  "Fine.  You're the fastest."

            Northstar smiled widely.  "Isn't it the truth?  Must be off now, ciao."

            "Wait!!" Rogue invaded the court again.  "I wanna shake hands with the winner!"

            Nightcrawler watched suspiciously as she hurled herself at Northstar, shaking his hand vigorously.  He couldn't help but smirk at the fact that Jean-Paul's 'super fast' intellect hadn't caught on to the potential threat.

            "Congratulations on bein' the best." Rogue squeezed his hand harder, feeling her power take affect.  "Hope you don't mind, but I seem to have misplaced my gloves someplace."

            Northstar had long since tried to bolt, but it was too late.  He had moved too quickly to shake her hand… bad mistake.

            "This isn't my usual method," Rogue explained casually, keeping her grip tight.  "But I don't kiss _anybody_ who threatens my wardrobe."

            She finally let him go, unconcerned that her 'ally' was now lying unconscious at her feet.

            "What did you do that for?" Nightcrawler couldn't say he felt very sorry.

            Rogue grinned, enjoying her borrowed quick metabolism.  "I've got my reasons.  I wanted the best tennis player's skills for now."

            Was this the first lucky break of the day?  "Good thing I lost after all…"

            "Actually Sugar," She slinked towards him.  "It was such a close call, I think I'll just take you both!"

            BAMF!

            It didn't take a genius to recognize one of Rogue's crazy moods.  Kurt felt pretty sure that if he'd stayed where he'd been a second longer, it would have been too late to escape her.  Nobody could catch him if he saw them coming… except Northstar… awh, crap.

            "Tag is much more fun with ultra speed!" Predictably, she approached Nightcrawler from behind, slapping her hands onto his face.

            "Give me a _break_ already!" Kurt tried to teleport, but no effect.

            In control, she turned him to face her, smiling purposefully.  "Now let's see here… you didn't say anything against my wardrobe, did you?"

            "S… sure I did…" He lied pathetically, feeling that bruise in the neck more than ever all of a sudden.

            "Don't bite." She took a moment to finger one of his fangs uncertainly before indulging in her trademark deathkiss.

            It seemed an unnecessary cruelty to drain somebody of their life energy only to attempt to suffocate them with a kiss born of desperate loneliness, but that was just Rogue's style.  Nightcrawler could feel consciousness slipping… not to mention Rogue slipping her tongue into his mouth.  Just stop it, already!

            Gratefully, she did take a breath for a minute, looking surprised.  "Hey," She panted.  "For such a… _mutated_ mutant… you're not so bad!  Even this fur is kind of nice… velvety!"

            Figures.  That totally figures.  Face it; this is the worst day in your life.  Or maybe you really did die and go to hell.  Despite the fact that Rogue had absorbed all the powers she could want, she kept at it with a new fervor.  Kurt was vaguely aware of her bare fingers running across the fur on his face, following him into the grass as he lost ability to stand up at all.  His last thought before it all went black was a mix between "I hate tennis," and "I think I left the stove on."

            Caught up in her new discovery (Ooo, fur!) Rogue had to remind herself to let go of Nightcrawler before she killed him.  She reluctantly stopped the assault, remembering that she had some serious business to take care of.

            "Who needs the Williams sisters after all?" Her fingers flexed as she stretched her gloves back on.  Before galloping away in Northstar fashion she turned and blew a kiss.  "Thanks, darlin'!  I'll hurry back as soon as I can!"


	10. Chapter 10

            Chapter 10: Killer Handshakes

            Jean frowned slightly as she shoved all the green, fuzzy crud off of court two with her telekinesis, cleaning it up at the insistent behest of Gambit.  Suspicion tingled the back of her mind, disturbed by Northstar's mysterious K.O. and Nightcrawler's vanishing without a trace.  The latter wasn't terribly unusual, but she wondered why nobody had seen what happened to Jean-Paul.

            "Hurry it up, 'dis is my lucky court and Gambit can't have all 'dis fuzz in his way!" Gambit didn't share Jean's concern.

            The last traces of the fuzz faded under Jean's telekinetic wind, leaving a momentary, lonely silence.  "Don't you see that something… _strange_ is going on?" She suggested.

            Gambit shrugged.  "Like what, exactly?  'De Canadian's takin' a nap, and 'de elf got zapped wit' a phaser gun, right?  'Dat _his_ fuzz littering the lucky court, right?"

            "No," Jean huffed.  "This is green, tennis ball fuzz-"

            "Bring it on!" Rogue interrupted the fuzz inspection, trying to keep her pace under control so as not to betray her new powers by running too fast.  "I'm ready for you this time!"

            "Ready for 'da rematch, eh?" Gambit greeted her patronizingly.  "Gonna play 'da game without a racquet, chere?"

            Rogue blushed, but nobody could see it due to the fact that her skin was slightly…

            "Blue?" Jean noticed now that Rogue was near.  "Do you feel alright?  Your skin is blue!"

            "It's what?" Rogue threw her hands in front of her face to see, cursed the gloves that almost constantly covered her flesh, and yanked one part way off.  She blushed again at the blue tint of her palm.  "Uh… just feelin' a little cold.  That's it.  It's a bit cold-"

            "In the middle of a beautiful June day?" Jean probed.

            "What I _meant_ was," Rogue readjusted the glove.  "I _have_ a cold.  It's nothin' really, thanks for askin'."

            "You gettin' blue in 'da face, chere.  What happen?" Gambit didn't believe any of this either.

            "Would you believe one of Beast's experiments went array again?"

            "Whatever you say." He said with disregard.

            "Well," She stormed.  "It's happened before!  In case you hadn't noticed, Hank's been blue himself after the _last_ accident.  Would somebody hand me a racquet so I can get this game started already?"

            Jean had her arms folded tightly.  Rogue's lie was none too convincing, and she had her assumptions.  _Convictions_ actually.  "Well why don't you take _this_ one." She appropriated Northstar's racquet and presented it.  "Jean-Paul doesn't seem to need it at the moment.  Wonder why…"

            Rogue ignored the blatant accusation, took the racquet and herded Jean off the court.  "Blasted woman." She met Gambit over the net to make the formal pre-game handshake.  "You'd think she was _suggestin'_ something!"

            "Hope you're ready for a beatin', chere, 'cause Gambit's not gonna go easy on ya."  Gambit returned the shake firmly.

            "Oh is that so, Sugar?" She tightened her grip on his hand and shook it more rapidly.  "You're gonna go down so hard, you'll think you're goin' _up_!"

            Gambit played along, squeezing her fingers tighter and speeding up the handshake.  "Jus' make sure you're payin' attention when Gambit deals the cards."

            Tighter and faster handshake.  "Gambit… this is sports…"

            Even more tight and more fast.  "You gotta be a good sport to play cards.  Same wit' tennis."

            And thus was born the tightest, fastest handshake humanity has ever witnessed.  "Awh, to Asteroid M with your good sportsmanship!"

            "That some handshake, chere." Gambit rubbed his battered hand casually when she released it.  "Tryin' to break Gambit's arm before we start?"

            "Courtesy of Carol Danvers." Rogue shrugged, and the players retreated to their positions.

            "So let's do 'dis 'ting!" Gambit made the 'come on' gesture, tossing his trademark quarterstaff aside to wield a sleek black racquet in its place.

            Rogue bounced a ball against the court shakily.  She hoped her two extra X-Powers would be enough.  "Happy to oblige.  I'd ask if you're ready, but you'll never be ready for _this_!" She finally allowed her Northstar powers to surface, giving in to the swift intake of breath.  For a moment, she thought the rate of inhaling and exhaling would have her hyperventilating in no time, but her body didn't complain.

The world slowed to a snail's pace.  Gambit's 'come on' gesture looked more like an incredibly boring exercise in slowness.  The twittering of birds droned into a deep, gradual trilling, each chirp lasting for long spaces of time.  Scott, Logan, and Jean were sitting on the bench overlooking empty court three, chatting amiably about their game.  Cyclops was nodding with encumbered sluggishness at something Jean was saying, her mouth dragging out the words as though reluctant.  Her legs were kicking back and forth, but so slowly Rogue had to observe for a while before even picking up the movement.

            She turned her head back to smirk at Gambit, confident that her choice of powers had indeed been sufficient.  After all, _time_ itself belonged to her.

            Gambit's also found occasion to take a quick breath, shocked as Rogue's form blurred in movement as she served the fastest service ace he'd ever seen… or rather, hadn't seen.  He couldn't have been positive about the score at all, except for the sound of the ball hitting against the fence behind him forcefully.  "Eh… Gambit's not so sure 'dat was in 'da bounds."

            Rogue's fist flew to her hip in exasperation.  "Awh, come on, genius.  You didn't even _see_ that one."

            "Well, uh… lucky shot, chere." He conceded, scooting over to receive the next serve.

            "You can _keep_ your luck; I've got my own strategies." She ripped loose with another zipping serve.

            This time, Gambit thought maybe he _did_ see a flash of green pass by.  Regardless, he couldn't have so much as blinked in response, let alone hit it back.  "'Dere's no way 'dat was in."

            "You can't be a bad sport about this!" Rogue chatted speedily.  "You've gotta respect the odds; and today they're against _you_."

            "'Da odds are _never_ against me…"

            "Forty serving love!" She called.

            "No, no, _no_." He corrected her.  "It's _thirty_, not forty."

            "I think not.  I got one past you: fifteen.  A second: thirty.  And that last one: forty."

            Gambit found himself reddening, with no blue skin tone to hide the fact.  "What you sayin'?  What one?"

            "The one I just served while you were talkin' to yourself."

            He glanced behind him.  It was true.  There were three balls near the fence, one still freshly rolling.  THUNK.  Make that four balls.

            "That's game!" Rogue rejoiced.  "I'm beating you like a rug on a line, darlin'!"

            "Now jus' hang on 'dere one second." Gambit said.  "'Dis isn't right!  Gambit never loses…"

            Rogue tapped her foot impatiently, realizing that a drawback to super-speed was super-boredom as one waited for everybody else to catch up.  "Just serve, Gambit."

            He hoped she wouldn't be able to break his serve with this unexpected new talent of hers.  Best to let loose with every trick shot in his arsenal.  "You askin' for it now, chere.  'Dis gonna be an ace up Gambit's sleeve in mo' ways 'den one!"  He shot a great serve.  Right on the line, good power… she'll never return that one!

            She watched the ball bounce towards her, finding plenty of time to step into place and strike it back.

            Surprised, Gambit scrambled to intercept the return, just barely making it.  He smiled at the result.  The ball bounced near Rogue's feet and continued over her head.  A truly impossible one to catch, if he did say so himself.

            Rogue wasn't worried in the least.  She called upon her powers of flight and had the leisure to wonder if she was using her own flying power or Northstar's before even zooming up, slightly above the ball.  The slam was a thing of beauty, and truly, _truly_ impossible to catch.

            "Hey!?" Gambit watched helplessly, losing another point just like that.  "'Dis some kinda _joke_?"

            "I wouldn't go so far as to call you a _joke_." Rogue lilted, landing gently.

            "Jus' last week you were an… an… an amateur!"

            "Well a girl can't stay the same forever, Sugar.  Now is this gonna get competitive or did I wear tennis shoes for nothing today?"

            Deciding it was worth another try, Gambit shrugged and served again.  This one had a lot of spin on it, but Rogue seemed to know which way it was going before it even landed.  She took complete advantage of her prediction and shot the ball to the far side of Gambit's court, far out of his reach.

            "What a buncha-" Gambit began a tirade, consisting of some less than desirable words, and other really angry sayings.  He concluded the tantrum by igniting his jet-black racquet and tossing it upwards to explode into little titanium pieces.

Elly: There's another chapter right away in exchange for the long wait.  I've been a very busy gal lately, sorry!

GWFan: And thanks for all the help we've gotten in the reviews!  To respond to one note, yes, this story is out of continuity (and giddily so).  It's also been a _long_ time since TAS, so if Gambit's character is off… well, that's what reviews are for, right?

Elly: Thanks for sticking with us!  I hope you enjoy what's to come, and if I may take a moment to beg…

GWFan: Oh no, here it comes…

Elly: Um… I know this is stooping, but we also wrote a little fic called the TRUTH About Frodo that sank straight to the bottom of the LoTR humor page and has never been seen since.  If anybody's interested in some light, non-slash, Rings comedy you could look into it!  (smiles pathetically)

GWFan: Or to paraphrase Elly's appeal: please, please, please, please, we worked so hard, it would be great if you wanted to read it.  See you soon!


	11. Chapter 11

            Chapter 11: In Which Stuff Blows Up

            Scott, Logan, and Jean were playing rock-paper-scissors, which was actually fantastically pointless considering Jean could read everybody's minds.  Neither X-Man seemed to have caught on to this, despite Jean's multiple wins, and was continuing the game happily.

            "Hey, Light-Eye?" Gambit asked.

            "What is it?" Cyclops responded, huffing good-naturedly as Jean's rock crushed his scissors.

            "Gotta borrow a racquet.  You got extras."  He took one of Scott's racquets before even getting a response and marched off.

            "Hey… _hey_!" Scott noticed.  "You didn't get permission, mister!"

            Jean grinned as her paper beat two rocks.  "Aw, just let him go.  I've heard he's quite the player, so he should know how to care for a racquet."

            "Yeah, let it go." Wolverine agreed.  "Hey!  Who's for a game of charades?"

            "I'm good at charades!" Jean said, and the game began.

            "Love servin' thirty." Gambit called out, trying out another type of serve.

            The new serve didn't make any difference.  Rogue had it flying back with exquisite form.  She yawned as he gave the supreme effort, leaping awkwardly in a failed attempt to hit the ball.

            "Argh!" He raged.  This was getting quite frustrating.

            "Would you hurry it up?" Rogue had produced a Game Boy Advance and was punching buttons rapidly.

            "Hey!  Pay attention when Gambit's fumin'!"

            "Sorry sweetie, but you take such a loooong time about it." She continued playing the game indifferently.

            "Love serving forty!" He tried to serve suddenly, the way she had been doing it.

            Rogue casually saved her game, dropped the Game Boy into her pocket, picked up her racquet, scratched an itch on her nose, and hit the ball backhand.

            Again, Gambit gave immense effort, making contact this time, but sending the ball into the net.  He roared, exploded Cyclops' racquet, and then apologized softly.  "Uh… Gambit knows where there's more."

            "It's a Siberian tiger." Jean guessed.  (Or read, more truthfully.)

            Wolverine stopped his charade of waving his claws in the air, and tracing cat-ears over his head.  "That's it!"

            "She's good." Cyclops looked as proud as if _he_ was winning this game of charades.

            "Yeah, real good." Logan said.  "Your turn, Jeannie."

            "Okay." She stood up and started indicating some sort of clothing.

            "Bullet-proof vest!" Cyclops and Wolverine guessed at the same time.

            Jean shook her head, looking bemused.  She continued the charade with smooth movements beside her legs down to her ankles.

            "Some kinda… dress?" Wolverine smiled when Jean confirmed that guess.

            "Gotta borra' anoth'a one.  T'anx." Gambit strode past the gaming group, snatched another racquet and left.

            Jean ignored his intrusion, pointing at the ring finger on her left hand patiently.

            "Oh!" Scott exclaimed.  "A finger?"

            No.

            "A knuckle?"

            No.

            "A… a… a ring?"

            Yes.

            "A wedding ring!" Wolverine concluded.

            Yes.

            "So it's a…" Tick tock, tick tock.  "A wedding dress!" Cyclops actually rose to his feet and jumped up and down with the achievement.

            "That's it!" Jean clapped.  "Your turn, Scott."

            He beamed.  Well, not actually beamed with his laser blasts or anything, because that's not proper etiquette during charades, but rather, he looked immensely pleased.  "I've got a great one!" He began to move his hand, but-

            "Helicopter." Jean guessed.

            "That's right!  Wow, that's gotta be some kind of record!"

            She accepted the praise gratefully as she assumed her role as the clue-giver again.  She bared her teeth and used her fingers to suggest sharpened eye-teeth.

            "Sabretooth?" Wolverine growled.

            No.  She did the same movement on her ears, suggesting points.

            A high-pitched explosion interrupted them.  Fragments of racquets were clattering to the ground in court two.  Court two seemed to be experiencing a lot of littering today.

            "Uh… where were we?" Cyclops asked, dismissing the blast despite the fact that there had been two similar ones preceding it.

            Jean answered his query by spreading her fingers into three sets: thumb, two fingers, and two fingers.

            "Live long and prosper!" Scott imitated the gesture, but his hand didn't seem to want to make the sign.

            No.

            "Spock?"

            No.  She held the sign out, using her other hand to silently count the way she had grouped her fingers.

            "One… two… three…" Wolverine said it out loud for her.

            "Three Spocks?"

            "Don't mind Gambit." Gambit returned, selected another racquet and departed.  They paid him no heed.

            No, not three Spocks.  She twisted, pointed at her lower back, then traced a wavy line in the air.

            "Ooo." Wolverine winced.  "Adamantium extraction?  That sure hurts…"

            No.  Jean looked at them with disbelief.  This was an easy one!  She moved her hands up and down, palms upward, looking up as though she was juggling.

            Cyclops shrieked and fell off the bench backwards.  "Not a clown!"

            No.

            "Hey Cyke, get up!  It ain't a clown!" Wolverine picked up the dumbstruck mutant by the scruff of his neck and sat him back on the bench.

            Jean surrounded both of her eyes with two fingers each, staring at the guessers hopefully.

            "Whatever it is," Scott recovered from his clown fright.  "It's freaky.

            Yes.

            "Is it a person?" Logan sniffed the air as another explosion erupted from court two.

            Yes, it's a person.  She covered her face with her hands and then uncovered it suddenly; similar to the way a mother plays peek-a-boo with her baby.

            "Do we… _know_ this freaky person?" Cyclops asked.

            Yes.  Jean repeated her clue of pointy teeth, then knelt and put her palms together like a person praying.

            "Devil worship." Wolverine reasoned.

            No.  She resumed her feet and did 'live long and prosper' again, counting to three.

            "Hey." Gambit arrived.  "She pretendin' to be Nightcrawler?" He picked up a racquet, though uninvited.

            "Yes, that's it!" Jean pointed at Remy, thrilled.  "So it's _your_ turn."

            "Gambit got no time now."

            "Then you shouldn't have solved it, bub.  Take a turn." Wolverine made room for Jean to sit down.

            "Okay." Gambit put a finger and thumb to his chin, trying to decide what to do.  His eyes brightened with an idea.

            "David Letterman?" Jean blew on her fingernails.

            "Yeah…" Gambit shrugged and walked away with his stolen racquet.

            "I'm tired of charades.  I always have to give the clues, it seems." Jean stretched.

            Cyclops' eyes trailed after his racquet for a minute, then back to the redhead.  "You're just too good at this."

            "How about bloody knuckles?" Wolverine suggested.

            Jean paled.  "No thanks."

            "Mercy fight?"

            She shook her head.

            "Thumb war?"

            "Game and set!" Rogue laughed brusquely.  "Lost your touch?"

            "Touch?" Gambit ignited his recently acquired racquet, tossing it away and not even looking when it blew.  "See, Gambit's touch can be deadly as yours, huh?"

            "Not in tennis," She rubbed it in.  "You haven't gained a single point yet!"

            He mumbled something under his breath about how they should give points for tolerating women that are so full of themselves.  "Wait.  Gambit gotta get another racquet now."

            She ripped the Game Boy out.  "Hurry this time, would you?  I get sick of waiting."

            "One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war.  Five, six, seven, eight, try to keep your thumbs straight.  Kay, go!"

            Gambit tried not to look at Wolverine and Jean's intense thumb war and took Scott's entire tennis backpack away.  Nobody stopped him.  Scott was too busy cheerleading.

            "Come on, Jean!"

            "I'm trying!" She clenched her teeth.  Her thumb made a quick escape, and she exhaled in relief.

            "Matter of time, Red." Wolverine taunted, wrenching her whole arm to the side.  "Never told ya, but I was the thumb war champ back in Canada."

            She was going to complain that his grip was too tight, but all of a second it was over.  Wolverine had covered her thumb with his and it could maneuver no more.  "Awh."

            "Told ya."

            "My turn!" Cyclops stepped up, separating Logan's hand from Jean's jealously.

            She scored again.  And again.  And once more.  It was infuriating.  She had absolutely _no_ business being any good at tennis.  In fact, it was so maddening that…

            BOOM!

            "Again?" Rogue hadn't even broken a sweat yet.  "How many are left?"

            "Jus' 'dis one." Gambit admitted.  "You still gonna feel 'da wrath of Gambit today!"

            She chuckled, levitating off the ground.  "Face it.  The game's almost over and I'm _owning_ the match."


End file.
